He shook his head. "I don't know how Mandy managed it," he said, "but if I didn't know better, I'd swear you just have a shawl draped over your shoulder."
"That's what she had in mind," Kate said. "It's that fashionista gene of hers. I don't think she has it in her not to be stylish."
When the driver called to say he was waiting for them, Jake offered Kate his arm for the short walk to the elevator. "Thank you, kind sir," she said.
"My pleasure," he replied. "Let's go knock'em dead."
As they exited the elevator in the lobby, Kate and Jake did turn heads. Even though she chose the most conservative shoes she could find to match the dress, the heels still made her several inches taller than Jake. Not only did Jake not mind their height difference, he loved it.
The fact that other guests were watching them was not lost on him either. Jake's pride that Kate was on his arm was so evident, she almost told him to quit puffing his chest out like a bantam rooster, but then she stopped herself.
A man was proud to be seen with her on his arm.
In a heartbeat, Kate decided she liked the way that made her feel and that she was equally proud to be on his arm.
Jake was no slouch in a tuxedo with his sandy hair perfectly combed for once and his gold-rimmed glasses catching glints of the lights overhead. He looked academic and debonair all at the same time, with the contained grace of a man who was well built by nature.
It took them less than ten minutes to reach the Institute of Texan Cultures where the Exhibit Floor Dome Theatre had been transformed for the evening. Round tables were scattered throughout the space, and massive floral arrangements softened the modern, cubist effect of the geometric ceiling.
Jake and Kate were seated at the long table at the front of the room. The gentleman to Kate's left was an elderly member of the museum board who regaled her with stories about mishaps that had occurred at this or that exhibit through the years. To her surprise, Kate realized she was enjoying herself.
"We're so delighted Dr. Martin accepted our invitation to speak tonight," the old man said. "He was already highly regarded in his field even if some of his theories were rather unorthodox, but what he found on your ranch has made him one of the most famous archaeologists in the business."
"It has?" Kate said. "Jake's never mentioned any acclaim for himself personally. He just speaks about the interest the academic world has in the artifacts."
"Then he is a true scholar," her companion replied. "Humility is the mark of a genuinely learned man."
At just that moment, Jake touched her arm. Excusing herself, she turned and leaned toward him. "You doing alright with that old stuffed shirt?" Jake whispered.
"Stop that," she chided him. "He's a nice man and he has nothing but praise for you."
"Then let me correct myself," Jake replied deprecatingly. "He's a crazy old stuffed shirt."
When Jake took the dias, Kate adjusted her chair so she could watch him as he spoke. He'd arranged his talk to be a carefully cleaned up version of the discovery of the cave in Baxter's Draw. There was no mention of her father's secret life. Instead, Jake described the space there as "a place Mr. Lockwood kept private."
The images projected on the screens behind Jake, timed to compliment his remarks, took Kate back to the real events in the draw. The memory of the night of her own shooting never left her. It was now an ingrained part of her body, evident in every move she made or couldn't make. Any time that night came up in conversation, Kate emphasized her survival. She didn't speak about the hours she spent slumped against the wall of the canyon, her life's blood pouring from the wound in her shoulder or of how, in her conscious moments, she thought of her parents and her sisters.
By the time Jenny and Josh found her, Kate was ready to die. But then Jenny's voice brought her back up out of the darkness, begging her to stay and so she had. Kate had fragmented recollections of the ambulance ride, the emergency room, the sweet relief of painkillers, reassuring voices, and kind, capable hands. She awakened hours later in the hospital, Jenny beside her, and only then did Kate allow herself to feel the fear, pleading with the doctor to let her sister stay with her.
Then there were the months of recovery, the disappointment of her failed physical therapy, and the acceptance of the new reality of her disability. All that culminated in their return to Baxter's Draw, a grueling ride that left Kate exhausted and trembling, but determined to face that room again and to begin the long process of uncovering her father's secrets.
The people around her were enraptured with Jake's description of the small, exquisite Aztec pieces that Langston had kept in a cabinet in the corner of his reclusive hideaway, but Kate's thoughts continued to replay the series of events their discovery triggered. It wasn't until the applause had died away and the music had begun that Jake, leading her onto the dance floor, whispered in her ear, "Did this bring back bad memories?"
Kate leaned her head against his. "Why do you ask that?"
"Because I could see the look on your face while I was talking."
"And you were worried about losing your place," she whispered. "You are a sweet man, Jake Martin. Now, hush, and dance with me. I'm fine."
"You don't regret that the whole world knows about the cave now?"
"No. I'm glad that the artifacts are being studied and getting the attention they deserve," she said. "But I do have to wonder if Jenny is right."
"About what?"
"That no good ever comes of Baxter's Draw."
"Ah," he said. "It's a hard point to argue."
"And something we said we weren't going to talk about this weekend," she said, "so let's not. At least not for the rest of the evening. Agreed?"
"Agreed," he confirmed, taking her through a series of twirls that left her laughing when she came back into the circle of his arms.
Many glasses of champagne and a night of dancing later, Jake conned a carriage driver into making one last circle of downtown even though midnight was fast approaching. This time, however, there was no lecture about troop movements at the Alamo. In fact, there was no conversation at all.
Sunday morning, after lingering until check-out time, Jake suggested they stop at the Mission Concepción on the drive home. "It's the oldest unrestored stone church in America," he said. "The building was dedicated in 1755."
Jake was driving, which gave Kate a chance to study his reaction when she said, "You know, we've never talked about religion."
"Probably because we feel the same way about it," Jake replied. "That's between you and your Maker."
"Exactly," Kate said, "but the way you say that makes me curious. Do you believe in God?"
Jake seemed completely unruffled by the question. "I believe in the intelligence of the Universe of which we are all a part," he said. "I believe there is something far larger and far smarter at work in the cosmos than mere, mortal man, but I also believe we can draw closer to that ‘something’ just by learning every day and leading the best lives we can lead. Now, your turn. Do you believe in God?"
"Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't," she admitted. "When I read about all the evil man does to his fellow man, to animals, to the planet, I think there can't be a God. Then I just think humans are terrible and it must make God very sad. But in the end, I guess it's pretty close to what you said. I try to be the best person I can be and if I do have to look my Maker in the eye on some future judgement day, I hope I don't flinch."
"You won't," he said. "You have nerves of steel."
"I haven't had a lot of choice about that," Kate said. "Anybody who didn't have nerves of steel around Daddy wouldn't have lasted very long. That's why Jenny is so high strung."
"But from what you've told me, she always stood up to him."
"She did," Kate said, "and then paid the price for it in the dark of the night. All the time she and Josh were together, I was afraid he was going to do something to spook her, I just didn't think that he might actually be a bad guy."
"We don't know ye
t that he is," Jake said, pulling into a spot in the mission parking lot.
"No," Kate said, opening her door as the car stopped. "But it's not looking good."
They left the talk of family problems there and walked toward the magnificent stone church. There was no one else around, which gave them the freedom to circle the building and study the architecture at their leisure. When they came to a vaulted stone arch covering a walkway, Jake suggested they sit a while on one of the benches.
Once they were seated, he reached over and took her hand. "I want to talk to you about something," he said.
"This sounds serious," Kate said. "Please tell me there's not some major problem in my life that I don't know about yet."
Jake chuckled. "Don't duck and run for cover," he said, lightly running his thumb over her knuckles. "I want to talk to you about this." With his free hand, he took a small black velvet box out of the pocket of his jacket and carefully balanced it on his knee. Beside him, he felt Kate go very still.
"Now, honey," Jake said soothingly, "don't get all scared on me. Just listen. I know we said back in the beginning that neither one of us was interested in getting married. And if you never open that box and let me put that ring on your finger, I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave. But I'm in love with you, Katie, and if you want it, I want to marry you. I know we don't need the ring and the ceremony and the legality and all that nonsense, but, well, I'm a romantic man at heart and somehow I thought it might matter to you for me to ask."
Kate raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, tightening her fingers to grasp his more closely. "It matters," she said in a tone so quiet he had to lean in a little to hear her. "You know I'm not saying no. I'm just not ready to say yes. Would it be okay if I asked you to put that box back in your pocket and when I am ready, I'll ask you for it?"
Without hesitation, Jake retrieved the ring box and tucked it back in his jacket.
"Thank you," Kate said. And then she added, hesitantly, "Is it a pretty ring?"
"Not nearly as pretty as the woman I bought it for," Jake answered. "I tell you what. When we get back to the ranch, I'm going to put this box in my top dresser drawer. You can look at the ring any time you want to. Okay?"
"Okay."
"You ready to go home?" he asked.
"Could we just sit here a little bit," she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder. "This is a nice moment. I'm not ready for it to be over."
124
The morning Kate and Jake left for San Antonio, Jenny went into town to pick up a few groceries. Although Kate had long ago moved her personal belongings to the Rocking L, she left the house at the K-Bar 3 furnished. Jenny knew that when her sister disappeared without explanation for an afternoon, Kate had simply retreated to the privacy of her former home for a few hours.
Unlike the Rocking L, the K-Bar 3 held no memories of Langston Lockwood or any sense of indebtedness to him. It was a place where Kate could be content to be alone because no one had ever been there with her. Although she had adjusted well to having people in her life – even enjoyed it – Kate would be the first to admit that after a decade of living a solitary existence, there were times when she became overwhelmed.
While they were at the cabin in Colorado, Kate and Jenny talked about the K-Bar 3 and Kate suggested Jenny use the place as her occasional retreat as well. "It's a lot faster for me to come looking for you over there than it is to have to fly up here," Kate pointed out. "Or to figure out where the hell you've gotten off to."
They'd shared a good laugh at that, and Jenny promised not to pull any disappearing acts that took her farther than the K-Bar 3, which lay three miles to the east of the Rocking L down the same winding ranch lane.
Jenny hadn't expected to take Kate up on her offer of sanctuary quite so soon, but then neither had she expected Josh to start drinking like a fish or to be seen consorting with the likes of Rafe Jackson.
She still couldn't bring herself to think of Josh as potentially dangerous, but so far as she knew, he'd never set foot on the K-Bar 3. There was no reason why Jenny couldn't enjoy a contemplative weekend by herself and be safe from any worry of him showing up, which was exactly what she told Kate when her sister voiced her objections to the whole idea.
"I'm not going to hide from him, Katie," Jenny said stoutly. "Don't even think about asking me to do that."
Jenny knew she would feel as safe on the K-Bar 3 as she felt anywhere right now. She needed time and space to confront the inner voice that spent all its energy lobbing volleys of questions at her. The one-on-one conversation with herself had to happen, and Jenny hoped it would help her to find the quieter and wiser part of her mind.
Slowly she had come to understand that throughout her life, had she listened to that voice, to what some people call their "gut," she would have made far better choices. Over the past few days, Jenny’s gut had turned into a perfect nag. It showed no sign of falling silent until she paid attention.
As she unpacked her few groceries, Jenny looked around the tiny room and wondered how many inner conversations Kate had negotiated here through the years. There were only three rooms: a living space with a galley kitchen, a tiny bedroom, and the bathroom. But in true Lockwood fashion, Kate had made certain there were spacious porches front and back.
Floor to ceiling bookshelves flanked the massive stone fireplace, and although most of Kate's personal library now resided in the study at the Rocking L, these shelves were far from empty. Jenny found firewood neatly stacked a few feet outside the back door and built a small, cheerful blaze to take the chill off the room.
She had no particular plan for the weekend and had brought little with her other than her pajamas and a clean shirt. Her messenger bag held her iPad, a sketchbook, and a journal. Her mind carried the heavy baggage.
Jenny made a pot of coffee and stared out the window, lost in thought as the machine gurgled and steamed. When it finished, she filled the biggest mug she could find and settled by the fire, draping a blanket over her legs. As she stared into the flames, Jenny allowed herself to really consider the possibility that Josh had been working with Robert Marino all along.
As unfathomable as the idea seemed to her, the cynical part of Jenny's nature had to admit that no man was in a better position to train someone to infiltrate her defenses than Robert. Was it actually possible that Josh's uncanny ability to say and do the right things was because he had been coached? Training that extended even to their lovemaking?
The sense of violation that conjecture awakened was almost unbearable. If Robert's evil shadow had fallen over even her most intimate moments with Josh, the entire relationship was nothing but a twisted ménage à trois. How Robert would have enjoyed that!
Jenny steadied herself against a sickening wave of disorientation and allowed images of her nights with Josh to rise in her mind. He had always come to her with gentleness, but their passion had been far from tame. Even thinking about him now, she felt a stirring of desire.
In his arms, Jenny had allowed all of her defenses to fall away. Josh was unlike any man she had ever known. And yet, for all that she believed she trusted him, it took nothing more than witnessing him lose his temper with an inanimate object to make her literally flee into the night.
Was that post-traumatic stress, as Jake had suggested, or was it the wisdom of recognition? In the constant struggle not to lump all men into the same category with their father, each of the Lockwood sisters claimed to be able to recognize a complete bastard a mile away, and yet Jenny had allowed herself to become involved with Robert Marino.
Even if she would never admit it aloud, Jenny knew the reason why. He felt familiar. In those first weeks, when he was a perfect gentleman and playing the role of the urbane art collector, Jenny believed the romantic foolishness that she had found her soul mate.
Then one night, when she didn't do exactly as he wanted, he'd pinned her to the bed and roughly taken his satisfaction even when she begged him to stop. Right then,
she knew the truth about what she had recognized in him – the cunning control of an abusive man.
Of course, Robert apologized. He claimed to have been swept away by his desire for her. He actually went down on one knee and begged for her forgiveness, which she gave him – as much out of a need to delude herself as anything else. If she refused to really look at what was happening, then she could tell herself it wasn't real.
That night might have been the first time Robert hurt her, but it was far from the last, and ultimately there were no apologies offered and she no longer begged. Jenny never shared her memories of that mistreatment with Josh. Only Kate knew the full extent of her suffering at Robert’s hand, and it wasn’t until after Robert held them at gunpoint that Jenny confided in her sister.
Kate’s evaluation had been direct and to the point. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you shoot the son of a bitch.” The comment made Jenny laugh, right before she broke down and sobbed in Kate’s arms.
“No one will ever treat you that way again,” Kate assured her. “You’re safe now.”
Jenny allowed herself to start to believe in that safety. Where Robert had been rough and demanding in bed, Josh was loving and gentle. There was no hurry, no selfishness. And he insisted on knowing her. He wanted her to talk, and he proved to be a receptive and insightful listener, asking intelligent questions and offering no judgments.
More than once Jenny had said to herself that Josh Baxter was just too good to be true. Had she been right?
The thought continued to preoccupy her throughout the afternoon and into the evening. She fixed a simple supper, which she ate by the fire. Increasingly one probing fact surfaced above all the confusion. No matter how good Josh had been, she never really lost her apprehension about the relationship.
By habit, she blamed herself, assuming this was simply another instance of her inability to truly put her faith in a man. But that wasn’t it. There had been subtle clues that did bother her, and before Jenny had allowed herself to get caught up in Josh’s charm and apparent good nature, she had been the one asking the hard questions.
The Lockwood Legacy - Books 1-6: Plus Bonus Short Stories Page 85
